


falling in numbers; a ten step journey

by nutmeg101



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Gen, National Women's Soccer League, US Women's Soccer National Team, Women's Professional Soccer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:52:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg101/pseuds/nutmeg101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One is the number of minutes it takes for Kelley to notice the woman in the blue chiffon tank top with long, dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail. From halfway across the bar, she can only see her profile, but her jawline cuts like a razor."</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling in numbers; a ten step journey

**Author's Note:**

> I had intended on keeping this strictly on tumblr, but this is just an easier way to archive my fics so...

_One_  is the number of minutes it takes for Kelley to notice the woman in the blue chiffon tank top with long, dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail. From halfway across the bar, she can only see her profile, but her jawline cuts like a razor. Her what looks like a diamond earring glimmers under the single light that shines over her, haloing her in a dusty haze. Her gaze seems pointed, sad almost. She’s sitting alone in the corner drumming her fingers around the half empty pint glass in her hands; maybe she’s waiting for someone. Pensively, she stares out the giant window watching as the people of New York City walk by. It felt like summer was just yesterday, but the fall coats and oversized scarves say otherwise. 

*

 _Two_  is the number of times the bartender has to vie for Kelley’s attention, who is so off into her own world she doesn’t notice the tanned, scruffy bearded man with an arm full of tattoos trying to ask her if she would like a drink. He’s cute, she thinks, but not her type. If she’s being honest, none of the guys she meets are ever her type. She wants to believe that the world is holding out on her, making her wait for that one perfect man, because just as her mother has always said, “good things comes to those who wait.” But after a fleeting summer fling she had with her friend Alex, she already knows that her perfect man will more likely than not, be a perfect woman.

She smiles. “Sorry. Can I get a Yuengling please?” He nods and pulls a chilled bottle from the fridge behind him. 

“Do you want me to start a tab or anything?” He must recognize Kelley from the last time she was here with her friends, a night in which they racked up an almost two hundred dollar bill.

“No thanks,” she says, “just me tonight.”

* 

 _Three_  is the number of the times Kelley catches herself staring at the woman across the way. Her pint glass sits empty on the table and for a moment, Kelley thinks that’s it. She’s finished her beer and she’s leaving and will never see her again. It’s a strange sinking sensation. After all, she doesn’t even know this woman.

Incidentally, three is also the number of the times the woman pulls her phone out of her purse to check it, each time putting it back dejectedly.

Kelley watches from the corner of her eye, careful to be inconspicuous. There are dozens of other people surrounding her, but she really only sees one person. She likes to do this thing where she makes up storylines for the people she sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally watches. A wild range of different scenarios flickers through her mind; she’s a businesswoman waiting to close an important business deal; she’s impatiently waiting for her always-tardy boyfriend so she can finally break up with him; she’s a mother of triplets finally having a night out but none of her friends have replied to messages; the scenarios are endless really.

* 

 _Four_  is the number of minutes that pass before the woman gets up. Instead of putting on her beige peacoat and heading out the door, she pulls it from the back of her chair along with her black purse and makes her way towards the bar.

Kelley pretends not to notice. She feverishly pounds back what’s left of her Yuengling and orders a second. They sit on perpendicular sides of the bar, but they’re close enough that Kelley notices the crow’s feet when she smiles and the blueness of her eyes. It’s also quiet enough that if Kelley wanted to say something to her, she could without yelling.

Her phone buzzes on the table in front of her and lights up with a text message from Alex. “Hey, what are you doing?” it reads. Quickly, Kelley taps out a reply. “Give me your best pick up line and hurry.” The three grey dots that pulsate on the screen seem to stay there forever until finally words pop up. “You don’t need a pick up line. Just use your charm. Worked on me, didn’t it?” Kelley furrows her eyebrow in frustration. “Thanks for nothing,” she replies, adding an emoji with its tongue sticking out.

* 

 _Five_  is the number of sips Kelley takes before finally finding the courage to say something. She’s a flirt, but she’s never hit on someone in this kind of setting before and she can’t tell if the moisture on her palms is sweat or condensation from her bottle. She’s also never hit on someone quite as stunning as the woman before her.

“You came at a good time,” Kelley starts shakily. The woman turns her head and it takes a moment before her gaze is fully engaged. “In about thirty minutes or so this place will be packed with rowdy college students probably looking to sing karaoke or something.”

The woman smiles and it’s unlike anything Kelley has ever seen before. Her heart feels like a hundred butterflies trying to escape and she silently prays that her face doesn’t give away the fact that she’s somehow already smitten. But that is just Kelley. Everything from her actions, to her facial expression, to her body language is so easily dictated by her emotions.

She’s a hot mess of highly uncontrollable impulses.

“You mean you’re not one of them?” Her voice is a lot softer and lighter than Kelley had imagined and it throws her for a second, but something about it lulls hers. It takes the edge off of her pointed look and the way the blueness of her shirt brings out the sparkle of blue in her eyes makes the back of Kelley’s throat go dry.

“A college student?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do I look that young?”

“Kind of,” the woman shrugs.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I graduated in 2009.” Kelley picks at the label on her bottle, leaving a small mess at the bar. She quickly stops when she realizes the woman is looking at her intently, with what she can only assume to be intrigue by the way her eyebrow is slightly quirked and her smile crooked.

“It was a compliment,” she says, reaching her arm across for a handshake. “I’m Hope.”

“Hope? That’s a pretty name.” Kelley wipes her palm against her jeans before meeting her handshake halfway. “Kelley.”

*

 _Six_  is how old Kelley was when she first heard  _Hold My Hand_  by Hootie and the Blowfish. Then and still one of her dad’s favourite songs, it’s now one that’s ingrained itself into her heart and soul. It’s cheesy and maybe a little embarrassing but she knows every single word and every single beat from the very first strum of the guitar to its final decrescendo. When it comes on, despite the several drunk guys on what hardly qualifies as a stage attempting to do it justice, she can’t help but sing and dance in her seat. Much to her surprise, Hope actually joins in, maneuvering to the empty seat next to her. She doesn’t dance, but she knows every single word.

It’s just a song, but at the very core of it, it’s some kind of connection and Kelley feels her affection for this person she just met begin to develop. 

“I was a lot older than you when this song first came out,” Hope says. Her voice gets lost amidst the music, but it only gives Kelley an excuse to make her lean closer and repeat herself. “I’m actually kind of impressed you know all the words.”

“I guess you could thank my dad for that,” Kelley shouts, but Hope is a lot closer than she was before. She half drunkenly giggles, apologetically and absentmindedly placing her hand on Hope’s thigh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to deafen you.”

“It’s okay,” Hope smiles, unmoving. 

*

 _Seven_  is the number of terrible karaoke songs they sit and try to talk through before Kelley decides she can’t handle it anymore.

“Do you want to get out of here?” It’s so loud now that Kelley has to lean over and say it directly into Hope’s ear. She smells of something sweet, maybe berries or citrus, and it makes Kelley’s head spin. “I know a quieter bar just a few blocks away.” 

A simple nod or smile would have sufficed, but Hope leans all the way back in, in the same manner as Kelley just did.

“Okay,” she says.

* 

 _Eight_  is the number of times Kelley hiccups before the bartender signals for last call and she finally checks her phone for the first time all night. It’s late; or early, almost three in the morning and it’s the first time ever she’s done something like this. It wasn’t her intention to meet anyone tonight, it just happened.

Somewhere in between the terrible karaoke, walking to the new bar, which was actually a lot further than Kelley had remembered, and several more rounds of drinks, they had both completely lost track of time.

It was so easy for Kelley though. Hope is just so captivating. She has years of wisdom and experience on her and it’s so hard to _not_  listen to her when she speaks. Her voice, her eyes, her subtle touches. It’s everything Kelley hadn’t realized she’d been craving.

“So what happened earlier?” Kelley finally decides to ask. Hope looks at her through some droopy eyes, no doubt a side affect from the alcohol.

“You’ll have to elaborate.” 

“Not to sound creepy, but I kind of noticed you as soon as I got the bar. I saw you check your phone a few times and you looked upset.”

Hope laughs quietly, sitting up straighter in her seat. Her eyes aren’t so droopy anymore and she does this once-over of Kelley, like looks her up and down as some kind of final test or reassurance. Kelley doesn’t bat an eyelash. She holds Hope’s gaze, challenging her to speak. 

“I was meeting a blind date. She didn’t show.”

“Oh.” Kelley chest suddenly expands.  _She._  “Sorry. That must of sucked.”

“Nah.” Hope shrugs, signaling their server for the bill. She looks at Kelley with a shy smile, something that Kelley had never pegged her as- shy. “It turned out for the best. I actually had a lot of fun tonight. With you, I mean.” 

“I had fun too,” Kelley admits, “with you.” 

*

 _Nine_  is the number of the subway stops it takes to get to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade. Neither of them had wanted the night to end, especially Kelley who has been more or less completely enchanted and mesmerized by Hope since she caught that initial glimmer of her earring.

“It’s deserted there at this hour,” Hope says, leading Kelley towards the subway entrance, convincing her to pull at all-nighter and watch the sun rise with her- it’s the perfect spot. It doesn’t take much convincing though.

The train halts and screeches, but Hope’s body provides a gentle cushion. Kelley takes the few minutes to rest her eyes, leaning into her. A gentle nudge is all it takes for Hope to let her know they’ve arrived.

The early October air is cool and crisp especially with their immediate proximity to the Hudson River. It doesn’t smell nearly as bad as it does in the midst of the summer heat. Kelley zips her black North Face windbreaker all the way up to her chin, but the warmth that she finds comes from the hand that she’s holding. Her fingers feel so small and frail laced with Hope’s that it’s almost comical. 

There isn’t anything comical about how natural this feels though. It’s as if they’ve known each other for years. Kelley flows with her best friend, but this is different. Even if they’ve only known each other for a few short hours, there’s a deeper, unexplainable emotional connection. There are no awkward silences and as young as Kelley might be, Hope has awoken something inside of her she hadn’t realized even existed.

It could just be the alcohol, but even now in its fading moments, Kelley _knows_  that a feeling like this isn’t just a fluke.

For the next couple of hours, they alternate between sitting under the trees and the cold metal benches. It’s warmer under the trees but that doesn’t stop Hope from keeping an arm around Kelley. Slowly enough, the skies begin to lighten, the wind eases up, and the city that never sleeps becomes more alive with its early morning joggers and dog walkers.

*

 _Ten_  is the number of digits Hope and Kelley enter into each other’s phones before Kelley bravely leans forward to kiss her; before the sun finally begins to rise above the Manhattan skyline, silhouetting the skyscrapers in a bright orange hue; a hand gripping at the lapel of her coat to pull her in. Gently and hesitantly at first, but as the minutes pass and the wind ruffles through their hair, it grows deeper and hotter with Hope’s hand hiding beneath the material of Kelley’s jacket until they remember they’re not alone.

Soon they’ll each hail a cab going their separate ways for an indeterminate amount of time and everything that’s happened tonight will either become just a fond memory or the start of something special.

Kelley hopes it’s the start of something special.


End file.
